by Carmen Caine
Liselle grimaced.
So the Saluzzo had been speaking the truth.
“The Saluzzi yet again,” Pascal interrupted with a dangerous smile. “Are we their puppets?”
Orazio raised a mild brow his direction. “This matter is none of your concern, Pascal.”
Thankful for the distraction, Liselle reminded herself that she was well-practiced in the art of deception. Òsti! This was a most trying test! Taking a deep breath, she was ready when Orazio turned upon her once again.
“I do not know what you speak of—” she began.
But Orazio cut her off brusquely. “Antonio Saluzzo himself informed me that Lord Gray carries the stiletto that saved him close to his heart.”
Liselle’s lips parted, strangely thrilled at the thought of her stiletto in Julian’s keeping.
“And Antonio demands retribution, a heavy price that you alone will pay,” her brother continued harshly. “To keep our fragile peace, I have agreed to his demands, even to that of hosting the Saluzzi at my lodgings until the matter’s been settled. They will ensure that the retribution has been paid by no one other than you, cara sorèlina.”
“Are we to answer to the Saluzzi?” Pascal asked in a deadly tone.
Orazio turned upon his cousin. “Basta! If this is all an error then let me see the proof.” And turning to Liselle, he commanded in a voice that brooked no argument, “Show me both of your stilettos, Liselle. At once.”
But Pascal stepped forward before she could respond. “This is a Saluzzi trap, Orazio, can’t you see that? They merely found out that I took one of her stilettos to be repaired. The pommel had cracked,” the youth lied boldly. And with a contemptuous tilt of his chin, he added, “But I find it strange that you trust the words of a Saluzzo so readily! Has the Vindictam become their plaything to toss about at will?”
Orazio sent him a sharp glance. “For the last time, Pascal, this is not your concern. Be quiet, and if you do not heed my words, I will order you to leave this chamber.”
Pascal’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, it appeared that he would object, but then he moved to gracefully slouch against the wall and idly inspect his fingers. But there was anger in his dark eyes.
“I will do anything to see the Vindictam uphold the peace with the Saluzzi, as Antonio will do for his part,” Orazio said, adopting a somber tone. “He could renew the war over this, but he has refrained.”
Pascal snorted.
Ignoring him, Orazio moved to lay a heavy hand upon Liselle’s shoulder and demanded, “You must not become enamored with Lord Julian Gray, cara sorèlina.”
“I will not, I swear it!” Liselle replied, desperately summoning her training once again. Gexondìo! But he was now going to give her the order to kill Dolfin. Could she truly do it?
“Do you not remember the tale of Pippa?” Orazio asked softly.
Ignoring her rioting emotions, Liselle forced her voice to remain strong and calm. “I am not Pippa, Orazio!” How many times had she said those words?
But Orazio continued, as if he hadn’t heard her. “Pippa fell in love with the man she was to slay and lost her life for it!”
“I am not in love!” Liselle protested, but the words sounded weak even to her own ears.
“Diàmbarne! What secret do these Scottish men hold that breaks the bonds of blood?” Orazio asked almost to himself. His face was pale.
Liselle pressed her lips firmly together. Orazio clearly feared that she would fail, but she could not let his apprehension consume her. Forcing her lips into a smile, she insisted once again, “But I am not Pippa, Orazio!”
The nostrils of his angular nose flared, and his fingers gripped her shoulders even harder. “You cannot fail me, Liselle! You must accomplish this mission!”
“I will, Orazio,” she vowed, still smiling even as her soul cried out in anguish for the old salt spy.
“Then hear your orders,” Orazio intoned.
Nothing could have prepared Liselle for her brother’s next words.
“You must kill Lord Julian Gray.”
Chapter Sixteen – The Cage of Pigeons
Masking her turbulent emotions behind cool eyes, Liselle faced her brother, but before she could speak a word, Pascal interrupted.
“Why Lord Gray? The man is just a drunkard. Why do we care of the fate of such men?” His voice was calm and courteous. Strangely so. “This is not the way of the Vindictam.”
“Though I owe you no explanation, I shall answer,” Orazio replied, sending Pascal a curious yet annoyed look. “Antonio desires to test Liselle’s loyalty to us all.”
“Then Antonio is our puppet master,” Pascal observed, his lips curling into a slight sneer.
Liselle swallowed. The words of the thick-browed Saluzzo made sense now. She bowed her head. He had wanted her blood, but had settled for her heart.
Orazio’s voice took on an aristocratic tone. “I see no fault in his demand. Liselle has spilled Saluzzi blood and thus must prove her loyalty to the truce by taking Lord Gray’s life.”
At that, Pascal’s tranquility fled. His dark eyes flared with passion as he practically spat, “Why do we care a fig for what the falling house of the Saluzzi desires? Even a suckling babe can see the Saluzzi for the treacherous fools that they are! This truce was an error that will soon be remedied!”
“Do you hope for war, Pascal?” Orazio asked harshly as his face hardened. “Know that I will not allow it! And neither will Antonio! If either of us sees treachery even amongst our own brothers, we will root it out for the greater good of all!”
“It does not matter how you sweeten things. The Saluzzi are nothing more than vultures feeding from rotten carcasses!” Pascal’s tone was cold and deadly. “They are undeserving of peace. Their hearts are black and their deeds foul, and not one is worthy of walking the face of this earth.”
At that, Orazio made a chopping motion with his hand and ordered, “Cestìl! Enough of your hatred. Do not force me to cause you harm, but such words are traitorous now!”
Their gazes locked.
And then Orazio sighed, and glancing away, said in a softer voice, “When I was younger, I would have said such words myself, but now I see that it’s time to end such wanton bloodshed. And if the blood of a drunken fool such as Lord Gray can preserve this peace, then it will be done!”
“Òstrega!” Pascal swore, and then lifting his lip in dark amusement, he continued, “The latest tidings from Venice have all but proven the Saluzzi have broken this farce of a truce already. Liselle should be applauded, nay, greatly rewarded for drawing the blood of traitors!”
Liselle stared at her cousin in astonishment. Never had she seen Pascal speak with such vehemence.
Even Orazio was surprised, but for quite a different reason. “And what tidings from Venice are these?” he asked stiffly. “I have received none. If there was such proof, indeed, I would know of it before you.”
Pascal didn’t even blink. With a haughty tilt of his chin, he brushed Orazio’s question aside as if it were of little consequence.
But their gazes locked again, and for an even longer time they glared at one another in awkward silence.
And then Orazio’s shrewd eyes fell upon Liselle once more, and he ordered brutally, “Lord Gray dies before the sun sets, Liselle. This very evening.”
It was all Liselle could do not to shrink back from his penetrating stare. Gripping the edge of the desk to steady herself, she forced her voice to reply evenly, “As you wish, Orazio.”
Pointing to the pigeons, he said, “I will be staying with the Venetian salt merchants in town, and the Saluzzo will be my … guest. The bird that you send when the deed is done will find us there.”
Liselle swallowed.
She knew very well there was only one reason the Saluzzi would insist upon having one of their own stay with her brother until her message had been received. If she failed to send the pigeon by sunset, the Saluzzi would force her family to slay her. And if they refused, th
e truce would be broken, and the war would begin again. Orazio would be the first to die.
Orazio read the fear in her eyes, and a sympathetic expression crossed his face. Giving her shoulder an encouraging clasp, he urged, “I have faith in you. Stay strong and wary, cara. You can do this and do it well in the manner befitting a di Franco.”
Liselle bowed her head. And even as a despair stronger than she’d ever known to be possible washed over her, she whispered, “May I prove worthy of the honor.”
“You have not disappointed me, sorèlina cara,” Orazio said, more to himself than to anyone else. “You will honor our family.”
A month ago those words would have made her heart soar. Now they felt like leaden weights. Never before had she lied to her brother. Every word she had spoken had been false. Blood and loyalty? Òsti! There was no solution to this! How could she spill Julian’s blood? But if she did not, could she see her own brother and cousin die?
“Then send us word when the deed is done,” Orazio repeated crisply, indicating the caged pigeons again with a curt nod.
“Yes, Orazio,” she murmured woodenly.
“Then I must be gone,” her brother said with one last encouraging smile.
Discipline allowed her to compose her features and escort him to the door. But upon the threshold, Orazio paused, sending Pascal a questioning brow.
“Allow me to tarry a moment,” Pascal answered the unspoken question.
Orazio hesitated, but then with a nod, spun on his heel and quitted the chamber.
As his footsteps faded away, Liselle’s veins turned into rivers of ice. But she could not panic yet. She still had Pascal in the room, watching her every minute expression.
“Diàmbarne!” he swore, striking the wall with his fist. “Why does Orazio insist on dancing to whatever music the Saluzzi play?”
Liselle bit her lip, unable to trust her voice to form a reply.
And then Pascal’s voice cut through the chamber. “You find this order … distasteful?”
Composing her face, Liselle turned to meet his sharp gaze. In a firm tone, she replied as he would have expected. “I belong to the Vindictam first.”
He didn’t believe her. That much was clear. “Then I will observe with interest what harm you can do,” he drawled with a mocking smile. “Particularly to the one you love.”
Love.
The word was a powerful one, and suddenly she couldn’t trust herself to speak. Ducking her head, she smoothed her skirts and fought to control her emotions.
But if Pascal noticed her discomposure, he didn’t show it.
Moving to the window, he peered out of the shutters and shook his head in disgust. “And I thought England to be a land forlorn of refinement, Scotland is even more barbaric. I fail to see how Nicoletta survived here for so long. ‘Tis no small wonder she took ill rather than return to this purgatory!”
As his litany of complaints continued, Liselle closed her eyes, grateful for a moment to regain even a shred of control.
“I grow exceedingly weary of this place. The sun never tarries for long, but at least they do not even attempt to make wine here,” Pascal commented as he abandoned the window to lounge against the door once again. And then peering down at her through half-shuttered eyes, he warned suddenly, “Have a care with Lord Gray. I’d wager the man is not what he seems, bábia. I would fain prefer to keep my blade clean of your blood this night.”
Liselle swallowed. Lord Gray certainly was much more. And not because he was Le Marin, but because she loved him. She closed her eyes as the magnitude of her situation truly began to take hold of her.
And then Pascal’s hand snaked out to grab her forearm tightly, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Can you do this?”
Liselle gave a bitter laugh that rang hollow. “I was born for this. How can I not?” It was a lie, but how could she say anything else?
“Walk away,” he ordered with a dark look.
Startled, her eyes went wide. “What are you saying? I cannot run. I am being watched, and I have received the tongue! Orazio himself would hunt me!” O ciélo, but was there a way out of this?
“I would see that you were not hunted,” Pascal vowed, his dark eyes blazing passionately.
Liselle wrenched her arm free. “And who are you?” Her voice was unsteady. “Why speak such drivel? You cannot change the laws of the Vindictam!”
He gave a rich laugh before whispering under his breath, “No. Not yet.”
“Yet?” She laughed herself, but there was no mirth in it. “Even with your strange connections, Pascal, you have no real power here. No one can stop this save the Dominus Granditer.” She swallowed, catching her shaking breath.
Pascal drew his lips into a thin line as he clamped both hands upon her shoulders. “Then outwit them all, bábia. Do not disappoint me! Ever have you excelled in games of treachery! Your presence of mind and skills are unparalleled. Outwit them all!”
Again, Liselle glanced up at her cousin, surprised at his genuine tone of concern. Pascal was only growing more complicated and mysterious each day. And he hadn’t betrayed her to Orazio. But did that mean he was an ally, or was it merely that his hatred of the Saluzzi was so strong that he cared for nothing else?
“Or,” Pascal continued, his voice dropping into a familiar belittling pattern. “Or you can do what you are most likely to do, bábia. You can pretend you cannot find the man and pray that he stays away.”
And with that parting barb, he opened the door and was gone.
Liselle wasn’t certain how long she stared at the empty passageway before the cooing of the pigeons gradually broke through her thoughts. Closing the chamber door, she returned to stand in the center of her room.
She would not kill Lord Gray. Her heart would not allow that. Nor would it allow her to betray Orazio.
“Why does heaven hate me so?” Liselle heard her own voice gasp. It sounded thin and far away, as if it belonged to someone else.
She stood there a moment as a wave of panic threatened to consume her, but she closed her eyes and steeled her resolve. She could not waver now. To waver now would be to lose.
But what could she do?
No matter which path she took, it could only end in death.
She left her chamber in a daze. Somehow, she had stumbled her way down from the castle and onto Edinburgh’s streets, and was only dimly aware of the afternoon sun beating down upon her face.
Numbly, she wove through the crowds.
A fanfare of trumpets sounded from the castle above, and as the last notes died away, she was dimly aware of the mighty gates creaking open and a company of horsemen riding forth led by Albany and King James himself.
And as the Royal Stewarts approached, the crowd of shopkeepers and bystanders thronged around her, craning their necks as they jostled and bumped elbows, striving for a better view.
As if in a dream, she watched the parade of royals.
Albany rode at James’ side, his head held high and his lips curved upwards in a smile, but his green eyes glittered in anger. And then the Royal Stewarts had passed, proceeding down the Royal Mile to enter Holyroodhouse as the bronze bell sounded from the church tower.
Chapter Seventeen – The Bone-Handled Stiletto
There was no denying it. She had failed. The words rang in her head, over and over. She could think of nothing else.
And then Liselle found herself standing in her chamber once more, having no recollection of how she had gotten there. The window was open, and the rays of the afternoon sun made sharp shadows on the wall. Behind her, she could hear the cooing of the pigeons.
Woodenly, she smoothed her skirt and tucked her stray curls beneath her bejeweled hairnet. There was no hope. She felt it like a fist in her belly. She would truly die this night.
With her hands involuntarily clenching, she moved to stare down at the gray birds in the cage.
Mayhap it was not too late to give the Saluzzo his chance at revenge.
The sun had not yet set.
Yes, she would die, but not at the hand of her brother. She would spare him that pain, at least. And she would do her best to protect his life should he refuse to slay her.
With a numb sense of resignation, she took a sheet of parchment from her writing desk, and tearing off a narrow strip, dipped her quill in the ink and wrote the words of defeat:
Saluzzo, I give you my blood for his. I await my fate at the feast.
Sprinkling sand over the wet ink, she read the message several times, feeling nothing. And then reaching into the cage, selected one of the birds and carefully tied the message to its leg.
Orazio had said the Saluzzi would be waiting with him for her pigeon at the salt merchants. It would not be the message they expected, but she knew it was her only choice.
Cradling the pigeon’s softness against her cheek, she moved to the window and opened her hands.
The bird bounded away, ascending to fly in lazy circles in the sky before suddenly turning east to swoop over the city and disappear amongst the rooftops.
She didn’t know how long she had stood there until she was shaken from her reverie by the church bells tolling in the distance. And then there were shouts at the castle gates, and Albany and James reappeared with great fanfare, apparently finished with their parade of unity.
The feast would start soon.
She did not know how quickly the Saluzzo would arrive, but the salt merchants were not far away.
With a heavy sigh, Liselle closed her eyes.
Her fate was sealed. By now, her message had been read.
It was done.
A ripple of anger washed over her. The Saluzzi were despicable. She could understand Pascal’s hatred of them now.
And Nicoletta. Tears threatened when she thought of her sister. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced the tears away. Nicoletta had been so worried for her. And as usual, Nicoletta had been right.
Returning to her desk, she dipped her quill in the inkpot once more to write her sister a letter of farewell, but she had only succeeded in writing Nicoletta’s name upon a fresh sheet of parchment before tears blinded her eyes, and she could not write more.
